Chapter 20 #2
“You’re too late!” He laughs gleefully. “You’re too late! I’ve waited decades for this moment, and it’s finally here! He comes, and the world as you know it will never be the same.”
The second the trap opens fully, my body jackknifes.
Power floods my blood as I absorb some of the demon’s magic.
Sam clutches me tighter, his face filled with concern, but I can’t breathe, can’t think.
I feel every single emotion the demon does: elation, cruelty, malice, and a million other things that scare the hell out of me.
In that second, I realise just how much Issac underestimated the demon. Feeling the power and immensity of his presence, the theory I’ve had that he was using Cordelia only to further his own agenda begins to solidify.
Suddenly, the smile slips from Issac’s face and his eyes widen.
“No!” he gasps as he tries to scramble back from the opening. “NO! NO!”
A long, glowing limb shoots out and grasps Issac around the waist. He screams and tries to clutch at the ruined floor to slow his momentum, but the limb drags him across the splintered wood.
Whatever has him in its grip is too strong.
It drags him over the edge and into the burning chasm, and even over the adrenaline-fuelled pounding of my heart, I hear Issac’s terrified screaming get fainter and fainter for an uncomfortably long time.
I suppose that’s at least one problem solved.
“Harrison,” Tris says urgently, “is there any way to close the trap?”
Despite the fear, I feel a strange sense of calm. There is a way and I know the price that comes with it. And although I don’t want to die, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to save them.
“Yes. One,” I whisper, and wince as I try to push myself up. “Help me up.”
“What? Why?” Sam scowls. “You’ve lost too much blood. You need to lie down until we can get you to a hospital.”
I shake my head, swallowing slowly. “It was my blood that opened it. It can only be closed with my blood.”
“Harrison, no,” Sam growls. “You’ve already lost too much blood, it will kill you.”
“If I don’t, we’re dead anyway. At least this way you’ll survive.” Unable to stop myself, I cup his beautiful face and fix every detail of him in my mind. His blue eyes, the scar which leads from the corner of his eye and wrinkles when he smiles, those soft, inviting lips. “You have to let me go.”
“I can’t.” Sam’s face twists into a mask of agony, and it hurts my heart. “Ask anything of me but that.”
“There’s no other way.”
“No,” Tristan interrupts resolutely. “No way. We’re the fucking musketeers, all for one and all that shit. No one is fucking sacrificing themselves. We just had my dad’s funeral, and I’m sure as hell not losing anyone else today. Stay out of the fucking light.”
“Uh, Tris,” Danny murmurs with wide eyes. “It looks like a giant naked man may be climbing out of the floor.”
We turn in time to see two thick arms reaching up through the gap, followed by a bald head, then a torso, a pair of buttocks, and, finally, thick legs.
The demon stands slowly, its back to us.
Its skin looks painful, like it’s made up of lava and covered by a cracked layer of thick, crusty, black volcanic material.
But even as we stare in mute horror, it begins to cool and change. The charred black layer crumbles away and the raw, burning skin banks, changing to a smooth gold. Jet-black hair begins to sprout on his head, coiling into large waves and curls.
Then he turns around.
He looks to me very much like he did in the early nightmares when Cordelia first raised him. It was only later, when he grew in strength and she finally unleashed him on Dr Whyte, that he took his true form.
Thank god he doesn’t have his eight arms. Two are bad enough.
The demon closes his eyes and inhales deeply, the rounded muscles of his pecs rising as his lungs fill, but when he speaks, his voice is so heavy with power it’s almost painful to hear.
“This world smells different.”
My head is spinning and I just want to close my eyes.
I try to concentrate on what’s going on around me, but it’s hard.
The ghosts have disappeared and Tristan and Danny have been flung out of the way by the demon.
I struggle to sit up, to try and help my friends, but my body feels like it’s made of lead and my side burns in pain.
Then a violent swirl of lavender smoke comes from nowhere, the air crackles with energy, and two figures appear, one of them familiar.
My skin prickles, the hairs on my arms rise, and I feel another punch of magic, this one way more powerful than the demon’s, and it’s like a double shot of espresso to my system.
It doesn’t ease the pain but it clears some of the fog.
The familiar figure is Lucien, the man who first showed us the demon trap.
However, I don’t know his companion, a woman of average height, slim, and in her early thirties maybe.
She’s pretty, with long, dark, wavy hair, smooth skin, and whiskey-coloured eyes, and dressed casually in jeans and trainers, a leather jacket over her hoodie.
“Well, looks like I showed up just in time.” Her accent is American, which surprises me for some reason.
“Who are you?” The demon growls. “I don’t know what you are. You smell human, yet you are something…other.”
“You demons, you’re all the same.” She huffs. “Smell this, sniff that. You’re like a pack of dogs.”
“Hey,” Lucien says indignantly.
She sends him a look and turns her attention back to the demon.
“Okay, since you’ve been stuck in that trap for, what, a century and a half?
I’m going to cut you a little slack because you may not be aware of certain current events.
With that in mind, I’d like to officially inform you that the Hell dimensions are under new management.
That would be me. I’m the new management... Olivia Beckett-West.”
“I will enjoy crushing your bones in my teeth.”
“Demon scum,” Lucien snarls, “kneel before your queen.”
“Lucien.” Olivia gives a sigh and pets him affectionately, almost as if he were a dog. “I thought I asked you to stop calling me that.”
He scowls in response. “But you are my queen.”
“Hell has no queen,” the demon sneers. “It’s Lucifer’s domain.”
“Ah, yes.” She nods. “Um, funny story, but Lucifer is no longer in charge of Hell. In fact, he’s no longer even in Hell. He escaped.” Her gaze hardens as she watches the demon. “Now, as for you. Do you really think I don’t know who you are…Ishaan?”
He glares at her.
“I also know Shiva cast you down into Naraka where you dwelled in eternal torment until you were raised up to Earth by a witch,” she says. “I’m sorry, but it’s time for you to return. You don’t belong on Earth.”
He bares his teeth and gives a feral hiss, his fingers curving into claws. “You are not sending me back. I will burn this world to ashes before I return to that torment.”
“See, I really don’t think you understand who you’re talking to,” Olivia says, and there’s no mistaking the authority in her voice. “I am the Guardian of Infernum.”
“Lies. Infernum is lost,” Ishaan rumbles, but he looks a little less sure of himself.
“No,” she replies evenly. “Not lost. Simply hidden for centuries.”
Olivia lifts her hands and they burst into flames, but the flames are bright green.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I feel Sam’s grip on me tighten in recognition.
It’s the same fire I accidentally conjured in the judge’s house.
Demonfire.
Olivia gives an almost negligent gesture, and a ring of green flames suddenly encircles the demon. He opens his mouth and howls in rage, trying to step forward, but he can’t seem to cross the circle of fire.
She is beyond impressive. I watch, absolutely fascinated, as her magic radiates from her.
Her eyes glow gold and her hair whips back from her face as if caught in an unseen wind.
She raises her hands and pulls her fists apart, causing a bow of sapphire-coloured flames edged in black to burst to life in her grip.
Notched in the flaming bow is an arrow of pure black.
Ishaan struggles against the demonfire that has him trapped. Unable to escape and clearly realising the power of the woman before him, his eyes widen in panic. “Please, don’t send me back.”
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “But you don’t belong here, and Shiva’s sentence stands.”
She releases the arrow and it hits him dead centre in his chest. He opens his mouth to scream, but it’s filled with flames.
I watch as his entire body is engulfed in fire, and then he’s pulled downwards, disappearing through the floor, still clawing uselessly to stop his momentum. But it’s too late.
Olivia whispers something under her breath that I can’t hear and it’s over. The demon is gone, the hole in the floor closed. For a second, no one moves or speaks, frozen in shock.
“Where did you send him?” Tristan whispers.
“Naraka.” Olivia sighs. “I don’t like to interfere with Shiva’s choices, and Ishaan didn’t belong here. I can’t have demons roaming the mortal world.”
“Is Naraka really eternal torment?”
“There’s always a path to redemption.” Olivia shrugs. “But in my experience, demons generally don’t want to be redeemed. The longing for chaos and destruction is too deeply ingrained in their nature. But…who knows? There are no absolutes and the world is a strange place.”
I shift and groan at the throb of pain in my side.
“A little help here,” Sam says. “Harrison needs medical attention.”